Hey guys. In my presentation last week, I said that African American social realism is sometimes explicitly political and focuses on social problems. Well, here's a poem that I wrote that may not be completely social realist (as Hector said in the last class session, it's kind of hard thing to define), but kind of gets at the political/racial aspect of it.

A River That Runs White

Sadly I miss the days

when killers sought shadows to practice their trade.

Now they’re emboldened as the devil

cause you armed them like Reagan armed his despots,

advocate of life that you are.

You tossed them guns and told them to be careful.

You say he was a threat with his bare black hands.

Maybe he should’ve walked by daylight.

Maybe he shouldn’t have walked at all.

Maybe blacks and bullets are meant for eachother;

like soulmates, can’t have one without the other.

You claim every black is murdered in Chicago.

No matter where they lie, they were murdered in Chicago;

South Side projects encoded in their DNA.  

You "prove" this with your ugly smirk

and your book of stats,

once a sacrilegious ivory text

but only when it spoke of bodies piled high

in cinderblock slave-ships

or stigmatic rocks you planted in gardens

to stunt our growth.

You tossed them guns and told them to be fearful.

You armed the killers when you said

with your sickly sweet tongue

we should all be the color of water

from a river that runs white.

You hailed America’s latest and greatest

achievement: absolving our sins

with ballots. We made him and now

we can destroy him and be at ease.

And destroy him we shall, so that

the river runs white again.  

You spat on hallowed ground,

and excited the killer’s soul

wiped the cataract of doubt from his eyes    

yanked the muzzle from his mouth

broke the shackles on his hands

and then

You tossed him a gun and told him to be bold and brave.

I'm loving reading what you all post here. More, more!

Here is an opinion piece by Edward Said from 1999 about the NATO intervention in Kosovo. I post this because it brings up two topics we've been discussing: anger and universalism. Said addresses each in ways that provide an important counter to some of the things we've been saying in class.

It's not long. Said "universalism"

I wrote this a few weeks ago in response to my 1191 in-class writing: "Write a pro-capitalist poem inspired by or in response to Baraka's 'A New Reality is Better Than a New Movie.'"

I'd Rather Dive than Drown

I don't believe this.

I really don't.

I need you to believe me

when I say I don't believe this.

3.00 beer, free if you can sing

2.00 bus, free if you can read

The Internets...free if you can find find them

How does it start?

     I'm hungry. Eat a brie grilled cheese, mushroom brie bisque, brie crostini

     I'm bored. Young Detective Dee The Rise of the Sea Dragon.

                            Look at all the ships! Hong Kong at the height of the Tang! Smash them, sink them, drown                               them! Show me the dragon...It's just a guy...in love.........53 minutes and no action                                 remaining

                       Next!

                       

                       Out of the Dark? Dynamite in his head and hands. Ghosts impersonating ghouls                                      reporting back to phantoms. This is funny.

    I'm done. Make more

                      Always be closing

                      Greed is good

                      The stuff dreams are made of

                      Huh

                      There's a fucker born any minute

                      I am small. It's the pictures that got big

     I'm finished. 

       Only have to/ can/ O why must I be bound to sell each shit only once?

       One more fuck hides everywhere.

       Dry here, go there!

       See new free geniuses enslaved

       Clapping forget

 Reality is for suckers.  

     

Orlando White - Functional White: Crafting Space and Silence

http://www.poetryfoundation.org/harriet/2015/11/functional-white-crafting-space-silence/

This definitely matters in all of the ways.

Perhaps the silence here and Joron's "zero" can be in conversation.

On the positive value of ritual (again)
CA Conrad: Ritual

Theories of Tubes

Electrons skirt funnels

     erect infinitudes loath to bend

Funnels sip electrons

     shave ten-to-the-tenth-to-the-tenth bits

     unlightened lasers stab network

Funnels sign funnels

     convections of limp subtext

     evaporates holographic cowls

     aurorae shear stiff tubes

     distended flux links close cousins 

Electron scans electron

     two wave forms mimetic beyond Planck and perfection

     non-local non-relative and non-deterministic

     below basement and vacuum and biosphere of ducts

     superimposed funnels spin plasm

     and surge    

Two paragraphs from my novel The Real Raquel

Maybe Raquel and I share more than looks, I thought, and when the chorus finally hit in all its authoritative glory, my nervousness turned into something more like adrenaline, and I was able to fall flawlessly into a circular formation with the dancers, whisper-singing little snatches of Raquel’s defiant manifesto to each one of them as they cycled around me. “I’m the Real Raquel. Oh, I’m the Real Raquel,” I declared to the dancer with blonde highlights before turning to a slim male dancer with messy blue hair —“I’m not a chameleon, but if I was, I’d never tell…” The noise of the crowd spiked at this line, which didn’t surprise me. I lipped it with particular conviction because it sums up Raquel better than any other lyric in her catalogue: she’s as real as they come, exuding the kind of authenticity and feistiness that focus group-tested pop stars can never hope to achieve, but at the same time she maintains a certain element of mystery, a thoroughly sexy and effortless elusiveness, giving you the sense that there’s always a piece of the puzzle missing, always something to study and be fascinated by.

I don’t want to downplay the discipline and years of practice needed to pull off a good performance but I think I passed a crucial test when I first grabbed the mic and dared to whisper-sing words that were rightfully Raquel’s. I say this because as the song went into the second verse and Raquel, her voice losing some of its bravado and displaying more tenderness and vulnerability, sang, “Baby I won’t compromise myself,” the oppressive weight of my nerves lifted entirely. I felt a kind of synergy between my body and the lyrics booming out over the field and when Raquel sang, “If you don’t love me I’ll find somebody else. Somebody who wants to know the truth,” I gracefully lunged forward as if asserting the truth of my own existence through physical movement. This is the real Raquel, I was saying to the audience. You can take it or leave it but it is a truth I will express unapologetically. Then I fell back into formation and looked sideways at some of the dancers. They were somewhat disoriented by the small liberty I had taken but this didn’t bother me. In fact, it was downright satisfying that I had went off script, especially considering the audience’s reaction. They gave me their loudest round of applause yet and this confirmed to me that while Raquel’s mystique lures people in, it’s her honesty that makes them stay.